Training Wheels: Epilogue
by Chelsie Dagger
Summary: More two wheeled fun with Chelsie... 1902. NO SEASON 4 SPOILERS.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N I've added an epilogue to 'Training Wheels' because of a request from Nicki2094. Her suggestion was such a lovely idea and it was a lot of fun to write. Does it count as an epilogue if it's half again as long as the entire story?  
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Epilogue: July 1902

"You have your half day tomorrow, do you not, Mrs. Hughes?" He stood in her parlor doorway.

"I do, Mr. Carson." She looked up from her desk. "Please, come in." He obeyed.

"Only I have just remembered that I never properly repaid you."

"Repaid me?" _That could mean any number of things_, she thought. "For what?"

"For conspiring against me with the young ladies." He remained standing, his posture very correct.

"It was more than my job was worth to deny them." She returned her eyes to her work, prepared to ignore him if he was honestly going to try to make an issue of her following instructions from the family. Even the whim of young Lady Sybil outweighed any order she received from Mr. Carson and well he knew it.

"A likely story. I think you rather enjoyed abetting them." He accused.

This startled her into looking back up at him. "Am I not to enjoy my job, Mr. Carson?"

_Damn, she had him there._ "I hope very much that you do enjoy your work here, Mrs. Hughes. It is just that I was of the opinion that you were on_ my_ side."

"I am on your side, Mr. Carson. If I may be so bold, I think you enjoyed your time with the young ladies more than you'll admit." She smiled when he tried to look indignant. But he did not attempt to refute her statement. "And for their part, they think you hung the moon." She added to soften the blow. She returned to her work.

"And on such authority, how can you say that I did not?" By the sound of his voice, she could picture the twinkle in his eye. My, he was in a jovial mood. _Whatever could he have planned for tomorrow?_ Elsie did not dare look up at him at such a moment. She knew she would be lost.

"Did I say that you did not?" His immediate silence told her that she had won. She knew she was flirting, not just with him, but with disaster, but she could not resist teasing back.

They'd adopted this teasing manner with each other in the short time since she'd been elevated to housekeeper. This arrangement seemed to work between them, but sometimes they danced dangerously close to the line of propriety.

They were both career driven individuals. She felt safe with him because she knew that he had no romantic intentions towards her. She suspected his ease with her stemmed from the same source. And yet, she could not name another person whose company she enjoyed more and there were moments when she found she could not give a tinker's cuss about her career.

After a few more moments, he was able to reply. "Flattery will not help you escape justice, Mrs. Hughes."

Now she did look up at him. "I have no intention of avoiding the consequences of my actions, Mr. Carson."

"I am glad to hear it. You are to meet me in the courtyard tomorrow after tea to face those consequences." He must have realized how harsh that sounded and retracted a little. "That is, unless you had particular plans for your half day, in which case, the matter can wait."

"I shall be there, Mr. Carson." She said with the proper amount of gravitas. He nodded with equal sobriety and turned to leave. "How this house operates under such tyranny, I will never know." She said it under her breath, but very much intended for him to hear it. The small hitch in his step as he passed through the doorway told her that he had. Smiling, she returned to her bookkeeping, but it was several minutes before she could remember what she had been doing.

CE—

Their words had been rather too flirtatious, she realized as she dressed the next morning. She needed to tread carefully this afternoon. The weather had woken up very fine today. The air was warm and summer was truly upon them. Perhaps it was the balmy weather that was making her so bold.

_What should I wear today?_ She wondered. She was looking forward to her half day more now than she had been. Her plan had been to take a book into town and perhaps read on a bench, weather permitting. Now, she was to be treated to an afternoon outside the house with Mr. Carson. She settled on something sensible, but wore one of her daintier brooches; the one that had a hint of blue in the stone that people said accented her eyes. With this little nod to vanity, she descended to breakfast.

Elsie completed her abbreviated day's work in record time. In fact, she had time to run up to her room and retouch her hair before she was needed to serve Her Ladyship's tea.

Elsie waited for Mrs. Patmore to plate the tea cake. Mrs. Cobb had retired just over a month ago. The kitchen belonged to Mrs. Patmore now, though Elsie retained the key to the larder. Mrs. Patmore was still grumbling about it, but Elsie was sure she'd get over the disappointment eventually.

Elsie heard a knock at the backdoor. Roger opened it, spoke briefly with someone and returned to knock on Mr. Carson's door. A few moments later, Mr. Carson followed Roger out of the pantry, straightening his vest by pulling at the bottom of it as he was wont to do. He headed up the stairs at a pace more brisk than usual. Silently, Elsie hoped whatever was afoot would not interfere with their afternoon plans.

Just then, the drawing room bell rang. Her Ladyship was ready for her tea. Elsie smiled; that bell meant she was that much closer to her rendezvous with Mr. Carson.

Nearing the drawing room, Elsie saw that Miss O'Brien was just about to enter the room as well. Her Ladyship's maid was carrying a shawl. Elsie found it funny that these great houses required fires and shawls even on a beautiful summer day. It smacked of an inefficiency that offended her. "Could you hold the door, please, Miss O'Brien?"

The other woman rolled her eyes as though Elsie had asked her for nothing short of her first born child, but she did wait before opening the door, so Elsie let the matter go. No use scolding the ladies' maid for such a little thing when there were sure to be plenty of greater offenses over which to fight. If she scolded Miss O'Brien for every sour look, Elsie would likely lose her voice.

Elsie was about to say 'thank you', when O'Brien stopped suddenly in the doorway. "Oh, excuse me, My Lady." She made to leave the room and block Mrs. Hughes' entrance as well.

"No!" It was Mr. Carson's voice that called from the room. "Please, Miss O'Brien, I need your help."

Hearing that he needed help, Elsie pushed past O'Brien and was greeted with a sight she would never have imagined. Charles Carson was holding a flushed and flustered Cora Crawley in his arms. If it had been a photograph, the scene could have been the placard for a risqué French play or movie.

"Please fetch the smelling salts, Mrs. Hughes. Her Ladyship has fainted."

_I'd faint too, if you were holding me like that_. She thought as she set the tea tray aside. She knew there were smelling salts in the library. None of the Crawley women were prone to fainting spells, but smelling salts were kept handy in several of the rooms for guests and out of habit from the days of the Dowager Countess, whose friends were prone to such spells.

She returned quickly. Carson had managed to move Lady Grantham to the chaise lounge. He knelt protectively beside her and was trying to get her to take some water. Elsie noticed how desperately the lady clung to Carson's hand for comfort. O'Brien was standing sourly by, watching the scene with her keen eyes. The shawl hung limply forgotten in her hands.

Elsie saw the relief in his face as she entered the room. "Thank goodness. Thank you, Mrs. Hughes."

Elsie uncorked the bottle and waved it a short distance from Lady Grantham's nose. The younger woman grimaced and drew back, but her eyes seemed to clear and she looked around her with less confusion.

She turned to the butler and grabbed both his hands adamantly. "Oh, Carson. Did I imagine it? He is finally coming home?"

"Yes, My Lady. The wire is very clear about that." His eyes led Elsie to a small yellow scrap of paper that had fallen to the floor. She retrieved it and handed it to Her Ladyship, who only released her grip on Carson long enough to receive the paper.

"But, Carson, he's been injured; and at the very end. The war has been over for months. We have been hoping to hear of his return and instead we hear that he is injured? "

"But not seriously, My Lady; just enough to delay his journey." Lady Grantham looked up into the butler's steady and concerned gaze. Her breathing evened out and she even managed a small smile. "Are you feeling better now, My Lady? Should you like some tea?"

"Thank you, Carson. I believe I am better, but I feel that I need something stronger than tea at the moment." She slowly released Carson's hands and composed herself. At a motion, O'Brien stepped forward to drape the shawl over Lady Grantham's shoulders. Carson rose from his position next to her and was once more the proper butler, standing with his hands clasped behind his back.

"What is it you wish, My Lady? I could offer gin, claret, sherry, whiskey…"

"Gin. A gin and soda would go down a treat, Mr. Carson." The colloquialism was the only sign that she was not quite recovered.

"Very good, My Lady. I shall ask Mrs. Hughes to remain with you until I return. I am not at all sure you are fully recovered." Elsie nodded her assent.

"Thank you, Carson, that is not necessary, but it is greatly appreciated. That is only if you do not have some other duties which require you, Mrs. Hughes."

"I do not, My Lady." _Just a beautiful summer day to spend with a certain butler…_

"I shall be back shortly."

During this exchange, Miss O'Brien wore an expression that could be directly translated as 'And I suppose I don't count?'

The look Mr. Carson gave her on his way out was easily interpreted as, 'As far as I am concerned? No, you do not.'

He was true to his word and returned quickly with the gin and soda. Indeed, he returned so quickly, Elsie was stunned. How was it that Carson moved so rapidly about the house and never seemed out of breath? Sometimes, Elsie suspected that he had his own hidden network of doors and stairs.

Finally, Her Ladyship had been settled and Mr. Carson felt secure in leaving her with Miss O'Brien. He was very sorry that the afternoon with Mrs. Hughes had begun so inauspiciously, but he was determined that they would not allow the poor beginning to mar the rest of the afternoon.

As the butler and housekeeper descended the stairs, she commented, "I was not expecting such excitement at tea. Miss O'Brien will have a story to tell, to be sure."

"What do you mean?"

"Only that she is not one to let the truth get in the way of a scandalous tidbit."

"What was scandalous about tea? The gin? Her Ladyship is entitled to a drink in the afternoon on occasion."

"Of course she is, but in Miss O'Brien's story, the salient point will be the proximity of the butler to the Lady of the house."

Carson bristled at the accusation. "Was I to let her fall to the floor? She had fainted just before you came in, else I should have rung."

"I'm not judging you, Mr. Carson, only warning you that Miss O'Brien is likely to cast some aspersions your way, based on what she saw."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hughes. I shall keep an eye out for that." They reached the bottom of the stairs. "Would you like to continue with our plans, Mrs. Hughes, or postpone them for another day?"

"My mother would say, 'There's no time like the present.'"

"Very good. I shall meet you in ten minutes?"

"Ten minutes, Mr. Carson."

**TBC...VERY SOON...**


	2. Chapter 2

Five minutes later, Elsie was in the courtyard. She scolded herself for being over eager. She heard rustling and a small curse from the shed. "Blasted thing's going to be the death of me," Mr. Carson muttered as he rolled the bicycle out of the shed.

"Better you than me." She replied, startling him.

"Actually, this _is_ for you today, Mrs. Hughes." He recovered smoothly.

"But that bicycle was given to you, Mr. Carson. It is yours. I would not dream of using your property," she protested.

"And I have very little occasion to use it, so I am offering it as communal property. I would like to extend the opportunity to learn to all the staff who may wish to use it."

"That is very generous of you, but I will not be availing myself of that opportunity."

"But you must learn, Mrs. Hughes. If any of the girls wish to ride, you shall have to teach them. It would not be appropriate for myself or any of the young men to do so."

"So this is my penance for helping the girls surprise you?" This was indeed a punishment. And she had thought it was going to be a pleasant afternoon. She still held out hope that she could escape. "But it is appropriate for _you_ to teach _me_?"

"Would you prefer Roger?" He gestured back towards the house.

"Perhaps. At least I could bully him into leaving me be." She frowned her displeasure at him. Elsie had been looking forward to spending time with Mr. Carson, but she did not intend to humiliate herself for his amusement.

They stood, facing off for some time, him, smirking; her, scowling. They had reached an impasse. Due to their stubborn natures, they might have stood there for hours, but a warm breeze blew through the courtyard, disturbing his greased hair. A curl of slick, dark hair fell down over his forehead. This, combined with the quirky half smile on his face and the fact that he was still holding the bicycle before him made him look like a hopeful young lad who'd come to call on a young Scottish lass. The idea made her fight back a smile. He took this sign of amusement as her surrender.

"Very well. Shall we begin?" He walked the bicycle out of the courtyard and towards the back of the house and the gardens. He did not once look over his shoulder to see if she was following. His absolute confidence struck her as arrogance. Elsie considered turning around and going back into the house, but eventually, she did follow.

When they reached the wide span of flat grass just beyond the garden wall, he stopped and turned.

"This area is not visible from the house, so you will be spared any humiliation whilst you are learning." She huffed at this. "Which is more consideration than you afforded me," he reminded her.

She did feel rather guilty about how he had been waylaid by the young ladies Crawley, and her personal role in the ambush. Though he had enjoyed the day more than he would admit, his dignity had been damaged. Elsie decided to serve her sentence, but she was not going to make it easy for Mr. Carson. And she might be able to find some fun in the situation. "Will you show me how it is done, Mr. Carson?"

He looked taken aback by her request. _Daft man_. How else was he intending to teach her? "Certainly, Mrs. Hughes." He jumped nimbly onto the bike, showing her how to put one foot on the higher pedal while steadying oneself with the other foot firmly on the ground. "Like so. And then…" He pushed off easily and began riding in small figure eight patterns on the lawn in front of her. Shortly, he returned the bicycle directly in front of her, jumped off and handed the handlebars to her.

"You do make it look easy, Mr. Carson. Much more so than when you started."

"I already told you that flattery would not save you. It's just a matter of having the confidence not to stop pedaling. The lawn is soft, so it should not hurt if you fall and there is nothing for you to hit."

"Except you."

"And I shall do my best to avoid getting in your way."

"And how is this to be managed?" She lifted her leg ever so slightly, demonstrating how very unladylike she would have to be in order to straddle the bicycle. The redness of his ears told her he had not thought that through. _Yes, today may be fun after all._

"I am not entirely sure, Mrs. Hughes. The girls did not seem to have any trouble. Just…get on. I shall turn my back, if you are more comfortable."

"Yes, Mr. Carson, I would be." She lied, smiling broadly as he turned away. He thought he was going to teach her a lesson, but she would teach him one in return.

Elsie jumped easily onto the bicycle. Skirts were not the mystery to her that they seemed to be to him. She positioned her foot to look as though she'd gotten it tangled with the front tire and then allowed herself to fall gently to the soft ground.

"Oh, dear!" She cried out with false fear and shook the bike to make a clattering noise.

Carson whipped around at the commotion and rushed to her side. "Are you all right, Mrs. Hughes?"

"Perfectly fine, Mr. Carson. I seem to have gotten caught up and then I lost my balance."

Without thinking, Carson began helping her remove her foot from between the frame and the tire. He had almost fully extracted the limb before he realized that her skirt had slipped up to her knee. She pretended not to notice and began pushing herself upright. He was holding her lower leg in his large, bare hands; one hand holding her ankle through the leather of her shoe, the other, holding her calf, covered only by her woolen stocking. When he realized where his hands were, he dropped her leg like a hot potato and straightened up. She fell back over unceremoniously.

"Honestly, Mr. Carson! What are you thinking? Why would you drop me like that?" She railed at him, but she was fighting back laughter.

He stammered an apology as he bent down again to help. He ran his eyes and hands back and forth along the bicycle, searching desperately for somewhere safe to grab hold and help her. She smiled to see that his eyes could not completely ignore her still exposed leg.

Elsie Hughes was not normally a woman who feigned weakness or incompetency to gain the attention of men. In fact, she rather loathed the women she knew who did. But, she had to admit, she was seeing the advantages now. It was certainly giving her the upper hand in this situation. His earlier smugness had been wiped away and his well-meaning exasperation was too adorable to be missed.

Finally, he grabbed the bicycle just below the handlebars with one hand and just below the seat with the other. He averted his eyes in an attempt to ignore the fact that this put his one hand effectively underneath her skirt. He lifted gently, as she helped right herself.

"Are you steady?" He asked.

"I believe so, Mr. Carson. I feel very silly for having fallen. Thank you, very much for your help."

He released his grip on the bicycle and stepped away, wiping his hands on the front of his trousers nervously. She suspected they were very sweaty.

While his eyes were still averted, Elsie arranged her skirt so that the back of it was almost covering the back tire. "This cannot be right," she exclaimed.

When he turned back to her, he saw exactly how far under her skirt his hand must have been. He paled slightly and looked as though he might be sick with the indecency of it, but Carson recovered his composure quickly. "No, I believe you should be sitting with your dress upon the seat, as you would any chair."

"You shall have to turn around again, Mr. Carson."

"But are you not likely to fall again, Mrs. Hughes?"

"I do not know. Perhaps."

"Let me hold the bicycle steady for you." He offered. He straddled the front tire and held the handlebars securely. "I shall close my eyes," he promised, as he did exactly that.

Elsie quickly settled her skirts in the proper manner, all the while, watching his face, with his eyes intently shut like a child playing hide and seek who does not wish to be accused of peeking. She knew from experience that forcing one's eyes shut that securely for that long would cause one to see white flashes of light.

Reluctantly, she released him from the torture. "I believe I am set now, Mr. Carson."

She almost laughed at the delicate way he opened first one eye and then the other, as if he were afraid of the sight that awaited him. Apparently satisfied with her appearance and her balance, he stepped away from the handlebars.

Now that she had had her bit of fun, Elsie was faced with the reality of trying to actually ride this contraption. He and the girls had made it look very easy and she had never had trouble with her coordination, and yet, she was still apprehensive.

"Should you like to just set out on your own, or shall I try and steady you from alongside?" She was touched that he was willing to offer to hold the bicycle after the embarrassment she had just inflicted upon him.

"A bit of help would be appreciated, Mr. Carson. Thank you."

Once again, he scanned the bicycle and rider before him, searching for somewhere he could grip harmlessly. Once again, he had to settle on just below the seat. With her skirts in place, it was not so indecent as before, but his hand's proximity to her derriere made him sweat more than the warm summer afternoon warranted.

_It's no different from when you were helping the young ladies. _He told himself.

_Oh, yes, it bloody well is! _The other half of his brain answered.

On some level, she understood that only his extreme stubbornness kept him from running to hide in the garden. That, and a sincere concern for her welfare, for which she was grateful.

"Are you sure, Mr. Carson?" This time, the tremor in her voice was not an affectation.

"I've got you, Mrs. Hughes. I'll not let any harm come to you. I give you my word." He smiled reassuringly and she believed him. He stood on her right-hand side. He had a firm grip just under the bicycle seat with his left hand. "In your own time."

Haltingly at first, she began to pedal. The front wheel seemed to have a mind of its own, jumping about in her grip. "Hold the handlebars steady, Mrs. Hughes." She concentrated on holding the front tire straight. "Don't forget to pedal." She quickened her pace. Her skirts made a swooshing sound as her legs pumped. She was actually starting to gather some speed on the flat lawn. Her confidence grew.

But then, Elsie made the mistake of turning to look towards Mr. Carson. Immediately, the entire bicycle followed her gaze sharply to the right. He jumped out of the way, but she felt a small bump which she was sure was his foot under the back tire. She heard his sharp intake of breath, but she also felt him holding the bicycle firmly upright.

"Straighten out, now. Keep your eyes ahead of you. You're doing well." She gathered speed. His words became more breathless as he ran beside her. "I'm going to have to let go soon, just keep straight and when you want to stop, slow down the pedaling and put your feet on the ground before you fall."

"Well, that's brilliant. Why didn't I think of that?" She snapped at him.

He laughed. _She must be feeling confident if she can manage to be so sarcastic._ He let go.

"No! I'm sorry, I was wrong! Mr. Carson!" There was a note of true panic in her voice. The front tire wobbled slightly, but she righted the ship.

"You're doing fine, my girl. Just keep pedaling." Neither of them noticed his slip of the tongue. How often had he encouraged the young ladies with that same phrase? She took his words to heart and began pedaling frantically. The speed was exhilarating.

"Maybe not so fast!" His voice sounded far behind her but she was not going to risk looking. "Try stopping!"

"Not likely!" She called back over her shoulder. "Do you want anything in Ripon? Because that seems to be where I am headed!"

"Try turning!" He had to shout the instructions to her in a breathless voice. He was obviously still running after her, and perhaps he was laughing. "A nice wide turn. Push the right handlebar down just a little bit and see what happens!"

"Here I go!" She pedaled faster as she pushed gently down on the handle with her right hand.

"Just a little! It won't take much!" He warned.

Slowly, she came about in a huge arcing turn. _That wasn't so bad._ She spared a look up and was surprised how far she had traveled in the short time. _I think that's the bloody point, lass._ She chided herself.

But now, she was quickly closing the distance between herself and Mr. Carson, who was now trotting backwards, trying to guess her trajectory and match it. Just beyond him, loomed the solid garden wall. Panic gripped her.

His voice was still raised, but it was steady and calm. "Let's try stopping! Slow your pedaling and try to come to a stop near me!"

She nodded and tried to concentrate on the rhythm of her hem swishing against the bicycle frame. She willed the rhythm to slow. She felt the front wheel start to wobble. For one terrible moment, she could not remember what she was supposed to do. She looked up to Mr. Carson for help. This was a mistake as it caused her to turn the front wheel too sharply. The front tire turned perpendicular to the rest of the bicycle and dug into the soft grass. Elsie was catapulted over the tire. Her hands still gripped the handlebars as she pulled the bicycle after her.

In her mind, time slowed to a trickle as she saw the grass rising up towards her face. Her last thought was, _This is going to hurt._

She only had time to shut her eyes and brace mentally for impact. But then she felt a tugging at her waist and, instead of falling forward, she was falling backward. She released the handlebars from the shock. Then, she found she was tumbling benignly on the soft grass. She heard grunts as he tumbled beside her. _Jack and Jill,_ she thought oddly as she came to a rest on her back. _Jack and bloody Jill._ She began laughing hysterically as her fear dissolved into relief.

"Are you quite alright, Mrs. Hughes?" There was no laughter in his tone, only concern.

Rolling over to face him, she smiled gratefully. "Excellent catch, Mr. Carson. I thought I was a goner."

Brushing the grass from his trousers, Mr. Carson returned her smile. "You simply had too much speed. Thankfully, I was able to reach you in time. The young ladies certainly trained me well."

"Though I'm sure I present a bigger challenge." She outweighed each of the girls by more stones than she cared to calculate.

"I assure you, the young ladies were much more challenging, Mrs. Hughes." He shuddered to remember. "To match them, you would have to add a hill and a lake, and then multiply by three. I'd much rather chase you around on the lawn any day, Mrs. Hughes."

This brought on another round of laughter from her. When he looked at her, perplexed, she simply said, "Just name the day, Mr. Carson."

Realizing how his words had sounded, Mr. Carson tried to backpedal, "What I meant to say…"

"Don't worry, Mr. Carson. I know exactly what you meant. I only meant to tease you a bit." She assured him, though she was disappointed to see the blush leave his cheeks.

He stood up and went to the bicycle. He examined the front tire carefully, only realizing as he did so that he hadn't a clue what he was looking for or how he'd fix anything that was broken.

"Oh, dear, have I broken it?" She did not even try to sound remorseful.

"Honestly, I would not know. There's nothing obvious." He held the back wheel off the ground and gave the pedal a pump with his hand. Everything seemed in working order.

"Perhaps we can rest for a while before I try to kill us again," she suggested.

"You were doing very well. It was only the last part that needs work." Mr. Carson sat back down on the ground near where she lay. "You are certain that you are unhurt."

"Tomorrow will tell the full tale. There will be some aches and bruises, no doubt, but nothing is broken. I've learned my lesson, Mr. Carson. I'll never conspire with the young ladies against you again. Consider me properly chastised."

"Was this really such a punishment?" He sounded slightly dejected. Carson had thought she would enjoy learning to ride, but he covered his disappointment, "I really do think some of the younger staff might find the bicycle useful."

"But you'll not be using it yourself?"

"It is not a very dignified means of transportation," he admitted. "I shall stick to walking."

After a few minutes where they listened to the birds enjoying the nearby garden, their silence began to grow uncomfortable. More specifically, the silence became far too comfortable, which was inappropriate. As the time drew on, Carson struggled to think of how to extract them from this moment, though he was reluctant to do so. He was very grateful when Elsie offered, "That is excellent news about His Lordship; provided he is not badly injured."

Jumping eagerly at this innocuous topic of conversation, Carson answered, "The wire did not go into details, but it seems his injuries were not serious."

"Things will certainly change around here," she offered.

"Things will go back to normal after His Lordship returns." Mr. Carson nodded certainly. "There will be house parties and shooting parties. You shall have your first real taste of running a great house. Some nights, every room in the house will be filled, upstairs and down. The halls downstairs will ring with activity and chaos that you and I shall wrangle into order. "

He genuinely beamed, imagining these future events. "We shall be a proper house again."

"I can hardly wait." His enthusiasm was contagious. "Why have they operated as a house in mourning while His Lordship was away?"

"It would not be proper for Her Ladyship to host any party that includes men while His Lordship is away. The only people she has entertained for the past two years have been the regimental wives or the Crawleys."

"That seems wrong to me. Would it be so bad to have a proper house party; host or no?"

"But that is not how it is done." Mr. Carson reminded her primly.

"If it is what you do, then it is how it is done."

"Mrs. Hughes, am I to pretend that made any sort of sense?" He scowled at her teasingly from under his great eyebrows.

"I'm only saying that every fashion or tradition must start somewhere. I should think the nobility make the fashions."

"It is for _royalty_ to make the fashions. Noble families such as the Crawleys are destined to perpetuate, not innovate."

"Mr. Crawley could have acted as host."

Mr. Carson grumbled something about a vulture.

"Careful, Mr. Carson, he may be your master some day."

"God willing, I shall serve no other master than the current Lord Grantham."

She had to stop herself from laughing at his overly serious reply. "God willing," she managed to agree.

Ignoring her mocking tone, Mr. Carson softened slightly. "Regardless, Mrs. Hughes, it will be good to have the Lord of the Manor home. I look forward to the challenges the parties will bring, but the most important thing is that the young ladies will have their father back."

"Indeed, that is the most important thing." _Maybe Lady Mary will be less of a Little Miss Prissy Britches. _But Elsie did not hold out much hope, not so long as Mr. Carson spoiled her._  
_

"Right." His tone declared the conversational interlude over. "Are you ready to climb back up on the horse, Mrs. Hughes?"

"I don't think that is necessary. I know enough to teach the maids, Mr. Carson."

"If you insist on stopping now, I shall not force you. But wouldn't you rather end the day with a triumph than a retreat? I believe you'll be fine this time. Just be aware of the front wheel when you are stopping."

_Easy for him to say. _ However, Elsie did not want to seem like a quitter in his eyes and her first ride had not been a total disaster. "Very well, Mr. Carson; one quick turn about the lawn."

He smiled encouragingly as they both rose from the soft grass. He turned his back as she mounted the bicycle. "For the record, Mr. Carson, I will have it known that I shall not be teaching Mrs. Patmore to ride."

"I would not dream of asking that of you, Mrs. Hughes." _There would be blood in the water for sure. _ Also, the idea of Mrs. Patmore on a bicycle made Carson decidedly uncomfortable. Mr. Carson shuddered involuntarily. "Mrs. Patmore shall have to remain content with walking."

**TBC...**

**And please continue to review, I very much appreciate those of you who take the time.**


	3. Chapter 3

In short order, Mrs. Hughes had become, if not proficient, then at least comfortable riding the bicycle. She grew bolder and turned tighter and tighter circles, buzzing dangerously close to where Mr. Carson stood, ready to jump out of her way should the need arise. More than once, she'd pretended to lose control and almost run him over, stopping at just the last second, laughing wickedly as he caught the bicycle by the handlebars.

He had seen her laugh more in these brief hours than in the almost two years he had worked with her. And what a laugh! Today had not been filled with stifled, high pitched giggles or mild, indoor chuckles. Today, he had heard her laugh with all her soul; freely and loudly; gasping for breath. At one point, she had snorted like a pig. Unable to resist the contagious laughter, he had lost his composure and joined the frivolity. In all his years at Downton, he had not laughed like that; his restraint stripped away with just the pure expression of joy remaining. Soon, he had developed a painful case of the hiccups, which had caused her to laugh harder and snort again. They'd both laughed until their sides ached and tears rolled down their faces. Eventually, he had thrown up his hands and retreated to the garden to collect himself.

When he had returned, he found her riding expertly around the lawn, with a mischievous smile on her face. He kept close to the garden wall, hoping she would not try to run him down in the shadow of a brick wall. Still hiccuping, but less painfully, Mr. Carson had consulted his pocket watch and frowned seriously. Unfortunately, their afternoon was at an end. He declared grandly that the student had surpassed the master and began to walk back to the house as she rode alongside.

They'd returned to the house in time for Mr. Carson to sound the dressing gong. Mr. Carson spent the intervening hour between the gong and dinner service distracted by thoughts of the afternoon and of Elsie. His emotions were a confusion to him. Had his behavior been unprofessional? Were his motivations for teaching her to ride sincere? Had he really stolen her half day and forced her to spend it with him? Had he crossed a line today? Would he do it all over again?

Carson considered passing dinner service off to Roger that evening so he could cloister himself in his office to examine what he was feeling, but it was not to be. Lady Grantham had decided to allow the girls to attend a full, formal dinner as a celebration for the news of their father's eminent return. Without Mr. Carson's presence, the young ladies were unlikely to mind their manners properly.

Adding to the evenings challenges, the Dowager Countess had also been invited for the meal. As she descended from her carriage, Carson subtly warned the Dowager what she was in for. "The young ladies are very excited to be joining you and Lady Grantham for dinner this evening, My Lady."

"God protect me," she moaned. "I hope, at least there is adequate wine at the ready."

"I assure you there is, My Lady. To celebrate the excellent news of his Lordship's return, we shall be serving the 1895 that Your Ladyship favors."

"Bless you, Carson. Please see to it that I never see the bottom of the goblet."

"I shall do my best, My Lady."

CE—

Muscles she'd forgotten she had ached as she lay back in the tub. Elsie still had the rest of the evening off after they'd returned to the house. While the others were serving dinner, she had indulged in a long, hot bath. It had helped sooth her soreness somewhat. The soothing aroma of the bath oils lulled her almost to sleep. In fact, Elsie was so relaxed, she almost forgot to pin up her hair before coming down for dinner.

It was not until she was dressing for dinner that she noticed that her brooch was missing. She found it strange that Mr. Carson had not noticed, as he was always so aware of the staff's appearance. The truth was, Mr. Carson had not been able to take his eyes off of her for most of the afternoon, but he had been too distracted by her smiles and dancing eyes to notice the missing brooch.

At dinner, Mr. Carson forced himself not to give Mrs. Hughes more than a cursory smile. Before serving that evening's soup, Mr. Carson informed the staff of the imminent return of their Lord and master, adding that Her Ladyship was quite recovered from her earlier fainting spell. "It's a blessing I was there to catch her, or she might have hit her head when she fell." Miss O'Brien looked annoyed that her scandalous story had been rendered mundane. Elsie smiled to see how deftly he had diffused that situation.

Mr. Carson had also offered the bicycle for use to all on the staff. Both pieces of news were welcomed warmly by the staff, but the bicycle generated a bit more excitement. If anyone required lessons, they were to report to either Mrs. Hughes or Roger. Mrs. Hughes had already promised to hold a lesson after lunch tomorrow.

As the rest of the staff were contemplating how a bicycle would improve their half days off, Mrs. Hughes leaned over to Mr. Carson. "I need to run back to the lawn after dinner, Mr. Carson. I seem to have lost my brooch today. I shall take a lantern, as I may be a while. Please don't lock me out."

"Oh, dear. Is it valuable?"

"Not really, but I do hate to lose things," she said, as nonchalantly as possible.

Mr. Carson was not convinced that she was as calm inwardly as she was outwardly. He wished to reassure her. "We should go as soon as we have both finished with dinner. There should still be some little daylight remaining. No doubt, you lost it in your acrobatic fall. If we can find the patch of grass torn up by the tire, we should be able to find your brooch quickly."

"We?"

"Four eyes are better than two, especially with time against you. I can bring two of the hall boys as well, if you think that would help."

"There is such a thing as too many eyes, Mr. Carson." Hearing the double meaning, she hurried on, "What I mean is, with too many people, we're as likely to trod on the brooch as to find it."

"Point taken."

And so it was that they headed back to the lawn in the day's dying light. Mr. Carson carried a lantern, which was currently casting it's feeble light uselessly into the still bright evening. They very quickly found the divot left by the front tire. Unsure of which direction they had tumbled, they started at this point and spiraled out, searching the short grass as they went.

The night was falling quickly and the lantern would soon be a necessity rather than a precaution. Elsie's agitation grew as the light dimmed. What if they couldn't find it? What if a bird had already carried it off? Her panic grew as their search area expanded.

"I believe I've found it." Mr. Carson said as he knelt to pick up the glittering pin.

"Thank god." Elsie cried out. She ran to him and grabbed the small piece of jewelry from his hand before he could stand. Her relief was palpable. "Thank you, Mr. Carson!" Without thinking, she put her hand on his cheek and kissed the top of his head before stepping back, holding the brooch to her breast with her other hand.

Mr. Carson smoothed his hair down where she had mussed it with her lips. He was gratified to see her joy. "I gather the brooch has at least some sentimental value, Mrs. Hughes?" He was standing again.

She nodded fervently as she made to fix the brooch at her neck. "It was my mother's and her mother's before that." Her voice was full of emotion and her eyes were moist. Elsie had not been aware of how much she'd been afraid they might not find the brooch. She had so little from her mother and nothing else from her gran. Mrs. Hughes' hands were trembling too much to attach the brooch correctly. She hoped Mr. Carson had not noticed her lack of composure. But, of course, he had.

"Allow me, Mrs. Hughes." Smiling kindly, he handed her the lantern as he took back the brooch. Elsie held the lantern at her eye's height. She took the treasured opportunity to observe him closely and openly.

As it had done when she was falling earlier in the day, time contracted where each second filled an eternity. The lantern light accented his stately profile. His eyes were dark, but warm. She felt his fingertips brushing against her neck. She should have been fearful that he would feel her racing pulse there, but Elsie found she was strangely incapable of fear. Several eternities later, and still too soon, his expert hands had done their work. Elsie still watched him, wanting to see if their proximity affected him as it affected her.

Mr. Carson thought nothing of it as he quickly fastened the silver bauble at the top of her blouse. How often had he knotted or straightened His Lordship's tie? This was no different. At least, it was no different until he made the mistake of looking up into her eyes when he had fixed the brooch properly.

He reached up to take back the lantern; his fingers brushing hers just as he smiled at her triumphantly. His smile froze on his face when he observed her face, half in shadow. She wore an open and unguarded smile upon her lips. Unshed tears sparkled in her eyes, illuminated by the lantern's soft light. He had caught her in a moment of absolute vulnerability and it had stolen his breath away. He had never seen anyone or anything so beautiful in all his life.

Charles' nose was filled with the scent of lavender that rose warmly from her skin. He knew what that smell meant; she had taken a long, soaking bath, using the lavender oil Lady Grantham gifted her each year on Christmas. He had noticed at dinner, but had temporarily managed to corral his restless imagination.

But now, he could not control the destination of his thoughts as they raced to the female servant's bathroom. In his fantasies, she reclined with her wet hair hanging over the edge of the large tub. The light of the copious candles that were strewn inexplicably around the bathroom were reflected in the glassy surface of the water, through which he could only make out the ghost of her radiant, white body.

Why did he always picture her bathing by candlelight? Good god, why did he imagine her bathing at all? _You weak and worthless man! _How dare he consider her in such a carnal sense? She was his friend, his equal in every way. Usually, in these tantalizing and sinful moments, he hated himself for objectifying her.

But, in this moment, face to face with her on the lawn, hidden from the house, she was more exposed to him than if she were actually naked before him. And yet, he felt no shame. Seeing her as vulnerable as this, while awakening lustful thoughts, also stirred something deeper in him. He felt a longing that was not lust and a feeling beyond that which his youth had once called Love. He felt the need to protect this delicate creature. He would do anything for her and, for a fleeting second, he believed that she would let him.

All this passed through his mind in an instant. He blinked and the spell was broken. The lantern's light was no longer soft, but harsh. She was closed to him again, her defenses hastily rebuilt. She was once more the exquisite and unreachable Mrs. Hughes.

"Thank you, Mr. Carson." She withdrew a step. The smell of lavender faded away. His breathing steadied.

"Do not mention it, Mrs. Hughes" _Please, for both our sakes._ "It is lucky we found it when we did. We were almost out of light. I should have felt responsible if you had truly lost it." They turned back to the house.

"Thank you for insisting we come out to search so speedily, Mr. Carson. I doubt we would have found it if we had delayed at all."

They continued this inane conversation all the way back to the house. Their words were automatic and empty; nothing of consequence was said. Once inside the backdoor, they each bid the other a quick goodnight and retreated to their respective bedrooms.

CE-

A still dazed Charles Carson sat on the edge of his bed, removing his slippers. He thought of everything he knew of Elsie Hughes. He knew she was a singular individual; the picture of intelligence and self assurance. He knew she had chosen a path of independence and success. Who was he to take that away from her? For he now understood that it was within his power to do so.

He was not much experienced with women, but he knew Elsie well enough to know that she would not refuse him if he declared himself. Were he a young footman and she a young maid, they could give in to their physical needs and risk the consequences. If they were caught, they could leave service and forge a new life. Had he known her when he was a young man, what would he not have done to win her and please her? But he was not young. He was past an age where starting over was practical. He had reached the pinnacle of his chosen profession, to abandon it now would leave him with nothing to offer her. Even as he thought this, he shook his head. _But I would. I would start again, if she asked it of me. And I would succeed if she were with me.  
_

But he would not be the only one sacrificing the work of a lifetime. She would have to abandon the career she had built. How likely was it that such a strong woman would willingly subjugate herself in such a way for a man; for him? _Not very likely. _He could not ask her to. Even if she said yes, surely she would come to resent him for bringing her down in the world. And if she said no, he would have to leave Downton from the humiliation.

No, they would remain as they were and he would be grateful; never letting the bitterness of his disappointment contaminate the sweetness of their friendship.

Every evening, after removing his slippers but before closing his eyes, Charles Carson prayed. He could not have said if it was out of habit or out of superstition. Tonight he had a new prayer to offer along with his usual requests for the well being of all under Downton's roof and His Lordship's return.

Though it was not his custom, this evening Charles knelt beside his bed and spoke his heart's prayer aloud. "Dear God, thank you for Elsie Hughes and thank you for bringing her to Downton. Please help me be strong enough to respect the choices she has made for her life. 'The spirit is indeed willing, but the flesh is weak.' Help me to offer her my sincere friendship and to be content with her's in return." Around the lump in his throat, he added, "Amen."

CE-

Laying in her bed now, Elsie's mind kept returning to his hands; large, strong and warm. How feverishly hot they had felt on her calf as he untangled her and on her hips as he pulled her to safety. She had tried to banish those feelings with the steaming water of the bath, but she had only succeeded in burning his touches deeper into her skin. Elsie hugged her herself gently, placing her hands on her hips where his hands had been, and sighed.

The delicious feeling of tumbling beside him would not leave her alone. Elsie still felt his gaze burning through her after he had fastened her brooch in the warm summer twilight. Before tonight, she had never truly doubted her decision to reject Joe and dedicate herself to this celibate life. Having witnessed the lives of her sister and friends who had taken the more conventional route, Elsie was certain she had chosen the path that was right for her. She reminded herself that the comforts, the stability and the respect were worth it to her. _As they are to him._

Charles Carson loved his work. She could see it in his eyes as he described the future house parties. He loved this family. It was obvious when he let the girls fuss with his cufflinks or retie his tie, when he offered Lady Crawley a new book, when he helped the Dowager Countess down from her carriage and when he spoke of His Lordship's return.

Elsie considered her role in his life. He valued her as a colleague; of that, she had no doubt. He had described them working together to tame the chaos into order. To him, there was no higher aspiration and he had included her in his glorious, imagined future. He seemed to accept her as a worthy partner in his life's calling. This was no mean compliment and Elsie was mindful of the honor of such esteem.

But how did she feel about that? Was his esteem enough to build a life around? Was his professional respect sufficient substitute for his embrace? Were their evenings drinking tea or wine as fulfilling as even one night tasting his lips? There was an attraction between them; she knew it was not just her hopeful imagination. He blushed if their hands touched, while he hardly acknowledged the existence of any of the other female staff. He had practically burst into flames when he'd touched her leg today. Only a man who dreamed about her the way she fantasized about him would have responded to something so innocent in such a guilty way. Elsie knew she was supposed to be offended at being the object of improper thoughts, but she found the thought exciting, rather than insulting. The respect between them elevated their vulgar thoughts to something purer.

She still could not fully define what had passed between them tonight in the newly born darkness. Had the shadows played tricks on her, or, for a brief shudder of a moment had he truly looked into her eyes with unguarded desire? She had managed to restrain herself, somehow finding the strength to step away from him.

Something about her disarmed him, Elsie knew. She was certain she was capable of tempting him into forgetting propriety for at least one night, but she knew it would destroy her future here. She considered that she might even convince him that he loved her. She might persuade him to leave Downton for her, but she was afraid to ask. It would be cruel to ask so much of him when she had so little to offer in return. Could she ask him to sacrifice so much for her? She thought the answer was 'no'. And she could not even be sure of succeeding if she did ask. Could she risk being sent away from him? The answer was an emphatic 'No'.

She believed the responsibility for maintaining their working relationship rested solely with her. It was in her power to destroy them both. As she saw it, her choice was between Lust or Love; between one moment of having him completely or the rest of her life working beside him, stealing the occasional moments with him; moments like today. Would she trade all the sunlit laughter and camaraderie their future promised for a fumbling yet passionate midnight release?

The choice was a simple one. She only hoped she was strong enough to stand by her decision. She smiled sadly into the darkness of her room and hugged herself tighter. Elsie Hughes chose to give him the rest of her life, even if he never knew that's what she had given him.

CE-

"Good morning, Mrs. Hughes. I trust you slept well."

"I did, Mr. Carson. Thank you, for asking."

"No injuries or bruises from yesterday?"

"Nothing that time won't heal."

**THE END...for now...**

* * *

**A/N Sorry to douse them with the figurative cold shower, but ****I needed them both to have very strong reasons for resisting their mutual attraction for the next 20 years, as ****this AU already has it's revelatory moment (in _Moving Forward_). I think they both must have made definitive decisions to remain only friends at some point in their early relationship. But that does not mean they can't have any number of intimate moments and near misses in the meantime. In fact, removing the sexual tension can actually bring them closer, which could reignite the sexual tension... **

**It may stretch credulity, but we'll have a bit of fun with them...in future stories.  
**

**Thank you for reading, reviewing, favoriting and following. Alas, there will be nothing more to follow under this title :( **

**I will soon be launching another story, in this AU, from this era; picking up only a few months later:)**

**It is called ****_Never Downton Land_**** and features the young ladies' visit to London to see the play 'Peter Pan', also including Lord Grantham's return from Africa and TONS more Chelsie. Just because they've both decided to keep their feelings hidden, doesn't mean it will be easy to do so.  
**

**Both _Training Wheels_ and _Never Downton Land_ are in the same AU as ****_Moving Forward, Moving On_**** and the forthcoming (January) follow up, ****_Perpetual Motion_****. **

***_Matthew 26:41_ (King James Version): "Watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation: the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak."**


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